Warren Sapp’s bust in Canton would be wise to shut its yap now. And make room for the gap-toothed bust representing the New York Football Giants.
Michael Strahan wasn’t the dynamic force of nature Lawrence Taylor was. Strahan didn’t revolutionize the position of defensive end the way LT revolutionized outside linebacker.
But you didn’t beat the Giants unless you blocked Strahan, the unquestioned emotional and inspirational leader of Big Blue and a Super Bowl champion before riding off into the sunset with his franchise-record 141 ¹/₂ sacks.
I had asked Bill Parcells his thoughts about Strahan’s Hall of Fame candidacy: “The more Giants the better,” he said.
“I think he was a very good player, and he stood the test of time,” Parcells said.
I asked Parcells: So do you think he belongs having a bust near yours — which may or may not be talking to you?
Parcells chuckled and said: “I’m busy with watching the ones I got in there with me already.”
Does Strahan belong, yes or no, Giant aside?
“Well, I can’t put that aside, but I believe he does, yes,” Parcells said.
Parcells, like Strahan, should have made it to Canton in his first year of eligibility instead of his second. Sapp’s anti-Strahan pettiness only served as a reminder that class is not a prerequisite for Canton.
Good for Strahan that he received his due at Radio City Music Hall, in his adopted city.
“Everything is better in New York,” Strahan said.
Strahan deserves the greatest football honor as much, if not more than Sapp. All the offensive tackles and quarterbacks and running backs who played against him, all the defensive players who played alongside him, all the coaches who coached against him, all the coaches who coached him, vouch for him. Hell, even Kelly Ripa vouches for him.
“I was scared every time I put on a uniform and stepped on the field,” Strahan said in “A Football Life: Michael Strahan.” “I’m scared every day I go into the [“Live With Kelly and Michael”] studio, and I come on stage because I fear that I will not live up to what is expected. I fear that somebody who spent a lot of money to come into our studio, to come to New York and they’ll walk away and go, ‘I could have stayed at home.’ I feared that as a player a fan would come to the stands and I wouldn’t perform well. Just the way I’m built. I’m more scared of failure than I am excited about the accolades that come with success.”
He was a prideful player, never the biggest or the strongest, but very much like Muhammad Ali, Floyd Mayweather or Bernard Hopkins in his ability to figure out his opponent during the heat of battle and find a way to win. He was a master at gaining leverage on the man or men in his way in the trenches.
“I remember the first day I walked into the locker room like it was yesterday. Mr. [Wellington] Mara, Lawrence Taylor — Harry Carson was already gone, but I remember the first time I meant him,” Strahan said. “Frank Gifford — the first time I met those guys I learned more about the history of the Giants. And now to be included with the great players in the history of the NFL, going in as a New York Giant, it’s unbelievable.”
It was Strahan who first railed against the authoritarian ways of coach Tom Coughlin, but grew to embrace him once Coughlin added the personal touch and became the kind of lieutenant for him that George Martin and Harry Carson were for Parcells.
It was Strahan who, before Eli Manning engineered the dramatic, game-winning drive that would win Super Bowl XLII, implored his defense to believe on the sidelines.
It was Strahan who stole the show following the Canyon of Heroes parade at City Hall when he erupted into his “We stomped you out” rendition on stage.
“That was really like our battle cry. When all the odds are against you and everyone says you can’t do something, we’ll just stomp out the other team, we’ll stomp out the critics, we’ll stomp out everybody that didn’t believe in us,” Strahan said prior to the Giants’ Super Bowl XLVI victory over the same Patriots.
Live With Michael and Warren. Many Sappy returns.